


Let Me Burn With You.

by nox_noctis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nox_noctis/pseuds/nox_noctis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The weeks that Harry spent at Graham Psychiatric Institution passed in a blur of pills, invasive therapy sessions, and blue-eyed pyromaniacs.</p><p>And maybe Louis was right when he said it had all been one massive conspiracy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Harry fiddled with his hands as stared out the window, watching as raindrops streaked across the pane, leaving sparkling trails in their wake. He wasn’t inclined to say much, despite the fact that he knew the psychiatrist was waiting, hands folded and lips pursed. One solitary drop wriggled its way down the glass, and Harry mentally cheered it on, watching it grow in strength and size as it collided into several other droplets before bulldozing its way to the bottom.

  
A polite cough interrupted the little game he had created, but he didn’t feel bothered enough to acknowledge the source of the sound. He remained motionless, face pressed close to the glass and feet tucked under him, like a gargoyle perched atop of the profusely ornate armchair. He kept his gaze on the drops, desperate to remain enthused in their small victories, because he knew that if he turned away from his musings, his attention would latch on to the other things. The things that no one else seemed to see or hear.

“Harry.”

He felt that immediate impulse to turn around, that one that a person gets when their name is called and they’re not quite expecting it, yet he restrained himself. If his attention drifted towards something else, for even a moment, he might find himself focused on something he shouldn’t even be seeing at all.

“Harry.”

It came again. That same call to attention that any normal person would respond to, but he didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t want to turn around when there was a chance that he might get a glimpse of those dark, shifting walls or hear the incessant beeping noise again. Because they seemed so real.

"Harry you have to listen to me."

His eyes flicked forwards impulsively. During that quick blink that a person makes when they change their focus, they latched onto that black, swirling mass on the walls, the one that wasn’t really there. And then he could hear the beeping again. It thudded in his brain like a pulse.

He wanted them gone.

He wanted them gone so badly.

“Harry? Are you listening yet?”

Harry blinked as his vision shifted, finally settling on the bitter looking psychiatrist sitting at a desk across from him. For the moment, the dark swirling mass near the walls disappeared, leaving the psychiatrist's gaudy pink wallpaper in its place. The ever-present beeping quieted and become a dull throb that was easily lost in the sound of the downpour outside.

The psychiatrist shuffled her papers and regarded Harry with old, beady eyes. She tapped the stack against her desk and rested the papers on the dark wood. Then, she went about absentmindedly organizing her pencils, so that each one rested in a perfect horizontal line. After several minutes of her obsessive habit, she leaned back in her chair and began idly tapping her fingers against the desk. She scrutinized him for such a long time, he began to feel uncomfortable. It became increasingly worse with each tick from the little clock on her desk.

“So Harry,” she drawled, fingers drumming against the arm of her chair. “Are you ready to participate?”

Harry nodded mutely.

“Good.” she lifted a carefully manicured hand to navigate the train of pencils on her desk. She chose the one with the sharpest point before pulling out a pad of paper from her drawer.

“I’ll start this session the same as I always do.” She looked up at him, pencil poised to write, and then she deadpanned, “Have there been any changes in your hallucinations?”

“No.” said Harry meekly, “I still see the same dark, swirling walls and hear the same beeping noise.” Harry shrugged.

“Are the hallucinations any clearer or have you noticed anything new about them at all?”

Harry shook his head. No. There was nothing new.

The psychiatrist tutted and Harry fumed internally. It was as if every single time he showed up at one of their sessions, she expected him to make some sort of major breakthrough.

“And have you been taking all of your medication?” she droned.

"Of course."

She scribbled something down on her notepad. “Has the medication had any effect on your hallucinations? Has it helped you at all?”

“It helps me focus a bit better I guess.”

The psychiatrist narrowed her eyes, obviously recalling how long it took to get his attention. “I can tell.” she gave him a tight smile, and Harry could practically see the sarcasm oozing from the cracks in her lips.

“Honest.” Harry mumbled and the psychiatrist blinked boredly. “I swear. It really has helped. I can sort out what’s real and not real now.”

“Well, that’s not quite good enough, is it?” hissed the psychiatrist. “We want them to go away completely.” She tapped an outrageous fuchsia colored nail against her chin. “I think I’ll have to prescribe stronger medication.”

Harry’s eyes widened. He really didn’t want anything stronger. The ones he had already made him nauseous enough. Sometimes, he’d spend all day retching in his hall’s toilets.

“Really, I’m fine. It’s probably just the lack of sleep that’s making them worse.” Harry grasped for a good lie, “You know my roommate Anne? Well, she has this sleep habit of humming. She hums non-stop all night long. I can’t get a wink in.”

“Anne hums in her sleep?” asked the psychiatrist as she scrawled a brief note on her pad of paper. “And it is keeping you up?”  
Harry’s curls shook as he nodded his head, but the psychiatrist didn’t notice. She was too busy writing her notes.

“So,” she said as she shifted her spectacles on the bridge of her nose. “You’ll be wanting a new roommate then? So that you can get more sleep?””  
The truth was, Harry really liked Anne. Her humming wasn’t that annoying. Actually, he found it soothing. The last thing he wanted to do was apply for a change in roommates. But unless he wanted to be forced to take even stronger medication, he had to maintain his lie.

“I suppose.” he said.

"You really do go through roommates quickly. You only stuck with that boy, Liam, for about two weeks before you decided you wanted a different roommate."

“He was really bossy.” Another lie. Liam hadn’t been all that bad. His roommates were usually just the most convenient scapegoat when an increase in dosage was on the table.

  
“And Zayn? Was he bossy too?”

  
“No, but whenever he was around the room stunk of cologne,” Harry wrinkled his nose for emphasis, “plus he kept too many mirrors around.”

“I see. And Niall?” supplied the therapist.

“He was too excitable.”

The psychiatrist rubbed her temples. “Fine then, I’ll move you to a different room in your ward.... Ward A. Wasn’t that it? And I’ll see if any of our newer patients are willing to be your roommate.”

“Great.” said Harry, smiling. It seemed that he had escaped an increase in medication.

“Oh.” said the psychiatrist as an afterthought, “I’m going to up your medication dosage too.”

Harry groaned into his hands. Just when he thought he had eluded the pain of more pills...

“So I’m going to add Fanapt to your previously prescribed Zyprexa. Hopefully, this will treat your schizophrenia better than before.” She reached for the phone on her desk and paged one of the many nurses that worked in The Graham Psychiatric Institution and Treatment Center. “Hello? Yes, this is Doctor Stettler. I have a Ward A patient who wants to have a change in roommates. Yes. Ok. That’s great. Can you send someone to bring him up to his new room and sort out the roommate situation? Ok. Thank you very much. No, that’s all. Have a nice day.” The phone clicked as the call ended.

The nurse who came to escort Harry to his new room had black hair peppered with streaks of grey and kind aging eyes. She introduced herself as Nurse Melody Jacobson and Harry shook her outstretched hand. Falling in step behind Nurse Melody, Harry was able to navigate the network of halls that led from the treatment center to Ward A, one of the many residence wards at Graham. The whole way, Harry determinedly stared at Melody’s back in order to not see the walls of the hallway being covered by the swirling cloud of dark.

Melody stopped in front of a room and glanced briefly down at her clipboard. “This is it.” she said, “Room 277, Ward A.” She smiled at Harry and pushed open the door to the room.

Harry shuffled his feet nervously before looking up at the nurse. “Are there any mirrors in there?”

Melody peeked inside. “Just one.”

“Well...” Harry scratched the back of his neck. “Do you mind taking it out of the room?”

Melody didn’t seem phased by the strange request, and only a few moments later she was carrying it off, reflective side facing away from Harry.

Harry mumbled a word of gratitude before waving goodbye to the kind nurse.

Harry pushed open the large silver door to enter a stark white room with few furnishings. There were two twin beds tucked tightly into opposite corners of the room, a small wardrobe, and a bedside table. The walls were spotless...

_black...swirling...twisting walls...suffocating..._

_louder and louder.... thudding like a pulse...beeping... incessant beeping..._

Click. Click. Click.

Harry blinked as he slowly dragged himself back to reality.

That clicking sound. That was something new. Harry lifted his head from his hands and looked around himself, astonished to find that he had fallen on the floor. The walls and beeping noise slowly subsided, drifted to the far corners of his consciousness. He rubbed his temples furiously, as if doing so might make the hallucinations disappear.

Click. Click. Click.

He stiffened. There was the noise again. It was different from the beeping. It felt real and present. There was something about it that told Harry that he wasn’t hallucinating and that whatever it was, it was real.

“You’re really nuts, aren’t you?”

Harry whirled around towards the source of the voice. In a shadowed corner of the room, there was a figure sitting. His legs were crossed, but his chin was tilted slightly upwards to stare unblinkingly at Harry.

“That’s a bit hypocritical of me though.” mumbled the boy contemplatively. His gaze flickered and landed upon a small silver object in his hand. “I’d say I’m a bit of a mental case myself.”

Harry stared back dumbly. He watched as the boy held the silver object up in front of his face. It flashed in the dim light of the room and Harry realized it was a lighter. The boy flicked the lighter two times, and each time an angry red spark crackled, erupting in the same clicking sound Harry had heard. On the third try, a flame burst from the tip, burning bright and reflecting in the depths of the boys bright blue eyes.

Click. Click. Click.

A lazy smirk stretched across the boy’s face, and then he was speaking again, his voice flowing like honey. “My name is Louis,” he said as the flame danced magnificently in his blue irises. “and my therapist says I like fire a bit too much for it to be healthy.” He chuckled fiendishly. “I’m your new roommate.”

Click. Click. Click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the first chapter of my first fanfiction! What did you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is Chapter 2 of Let Me Burn With You. You can be sure to expect a new chapter every Saturday night, but I may get a bit excited and upload more than one chapter each week. If I do that then you would most likely see that extra chapter on a Wednesday.
> 
> Okay thanks! Tell me what you think of Chapter 2! :)

 

 

“So then,” asked Louis, “what have they got you in here for?”

“Sorry?” Harry looked at Louis stupidly, not quite comprehending the strange boy with the lighter.

“See, I’m here ‘cause I have mild to severe pyromaniacal tendencies.” The look on Harry’s face must have told Louis he didn’t understand. Louis rolled his eyes. “Meaning, that I have an obsession with lighting things on fire.” He looked down at the lighter again and grinned before flicking it three times.

Click. Click. Click.

Little sparks shot out of the lighter before the third click produced a lustrous flame. The blaze flickered as Louis’ breath tickled the flare. Then it blazed brightly once again, the dull orange giving way to shades of red and blue. “Now that I’ve told you just how certifiable I am, its your turn.” His eyes twinkled with an incandescence that was entirely unrelated to the flame he held. “Oh, and your name would be nice too.”

Harry didn’t really want to tell Louis about his schizophrenia. That was something that he prefered to keep private. Normally, he never had to worry about telling anyone. Most of the other patients kept to themselves and had no desire to learn about anyone’s condition besides their own. That being so, it wasn’t everyday that Harry was asked to share the inner workings of his psyche by a stranger, and yet he felt compelled to give a response because the boy had shared his condition so easily with him. Perhaps it wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it out to be. Louis seemed to have no qualms about his informing people of his pyromania. In fact, he had said it as if he was just telling someone about his worst subject in school. And maybe it really was that simple. Maybe Harry could just come out and talk about how he couldn’t trust his own mind as easily as someone might talk about how much they dislike maths class.

Nervously, he shuffled closer to Louis. “Oh. Um... It’s Harry, and um... _iamskitzophrenic_.”

“Hm? Sorry, didn’t catch that mate.”

“I’m schizophrenic.” Harry muttered.

“Really?” smirked Louis his voice colored with a tinge of sarcasm, “I would have never guessed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Harry.

“Nothing at all.”

“That obviously meant something.”

“It didn’t.”

Harry crossed his arms defiantly and glared down at Louis.

“Look, I can’t really judge you.” sighed Louis, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Everyone in this place is fucked up in the head in some way. Even me.” His blue eyes peeked up from under the fringe that swept across his forehead before darting back down to the lighter clenched in his hand.

For a moment, Harry glared down at the boy who was still huddled in the shadowed corner. The silence between them stretched for a for an impossibly long time and it was evident that both of them could think of nothing to say after Louis’ admission. The statement hung in the air between him, but both chose to ignore it. It was easier to pretend as if there was nothing wrong with them at all.

“Are you allowed to have that?” Harry’s eyes widened at the words that had just slipped from his lips. He hadn’t expected to be that first one to break the silence. Louis looked at him questioningly. “That lighter.” Harry muttered as means of an explanation, “Shouldn’t the nurses have taken it from you?”

A small smile fell across Louis’ lips. “I don’t think they’ve seen it.”

Harry laughed. “The nurses didn’t notice that a pyromaniac had a lighter on him?”

“I guess not.” said Louis.

“That must have been really tough to sneak into this place.”

Louis just nodded. “Yeah. So, what’s with you and mirrors?”

The question stirred something deep within his head. Slowly, his vision became fuzzy around the edges and he could no longer focus on Louis and his question...

_black...swirling...twisting walls...suffocating..._

louder and louder.... thudding like a pulse...beeping... incessant beeping...

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“Mirrors,” prompted Louis as he studied Harry with a curious look on his face. “I was talking to you about mirrors. You told the nurse to take ours away.”

“Oh yeah.” Harry smiled sheepishly at Louis. He hoped that Louis didn’t notice his momentary lapse. It was just too difficult to concentrate with his hallucinations most of the time. Sometimes, it was just easier to let the suffocating blackness and the loud beeping seep into the forefront of his mind, blocking out the world entirely. “Sorry I asked her to take it out. I forgot that I had a roommate who might want it in the room.”

Louis waved off his apology. “S’fine. So, what is it? Are you afraid of them?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Louis. “Why are you asking so many questions?”

Louis blinked.

“I mean, we’ve only just met and you already know about my schizophrenia and now you want to know about the things I’m afraid of?” asked Harry quietly.

“So you are afraid of mirrors.” said Louis plainly.

“Must you act like such a nosy twat?”

"Well I am a nosy twat.” Louis chuckled and Harry shot him a look of disdain. “Anyways, I think two people living together in an institution for loonies should know as much as they can about one another.”

Harry was silent as he let Louis’ words sink in. It made sense that Louis would want to know about Harry and his condition, but surely the boy realized that the institution wouldn’t have allowed them to live together if there was even the slightest chance of danger. Maybe the fact that Harry was schizophrenic had made Louis nervous? Maybe that’s why he was asking so many questions. Louis probably felt the need to interrogate Harry to make sure that he wasn’t dangerous. Harry didn’t think that he seemed like a danger, but maybe he gave off that kind of impression? That could be the case. Harry must have seemed all sorts of unstable. After all, Harry couldn’t remember the last time he had looked in a mirror. He could look like a wreck and not have the slightest inkling. His mind wandered to the other patients at Graham. He had seen loads of people in varying states of sanity throughout the six months he had been being treated. Some of them seemed relatively normal, while others were significantly worse off.

His gaze landed on the boy who still sat on the ground, indulging in his strange fixation with the silver lighter. He wondered what Louis thought of him.

He plopped down on the ground in front of the boy, so that they were sitting directly across from each other. Louis’ gaze was still focused on his precious lighter, so Harry took the liberty to fully appreciate the boy. Louis really did have nice eyes. His irises were so blue that if they flickered even the tiniest bit the brilliant hue flashed magnificently. He might have called the color something like cerulean. (He reckoned that he could make some sort of comparison between Louis’ eyes and the ocean or sky, but he wasn’t a complete twat so he didn’t.) There was a certain childish mirth in those eyes that fascinated Harry. His hair, though a plain brown, feathered elegantly over his forehead, a few stray hairs falling messily over his sparkling eyes. The smirk that seemed to be a permanent part of his expression hinted at his rebellious personality and it left Harry wondering how someone who seemed so flawless could really possess such a tendency for destruction. If it hadn’t been for Louis’ nosy attitude, Harry wouldn’t even hesitate to call him beautiful.

As if on cue, Louis lifted his head to meet Harry’s gaze. “You know,” he breathed, “they say that being afraid of your own reflection means that you have an unusually low amount of self-esteem.”

Harry exhaled heavily out of his nostrils, his aggravation practically rolling off him in waves. “Will you just drop the mirror thing already?” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in frustration.

“Fine.” said Louis and Harry glanced up in surprise.

“Really? You’ll drop it?”

Louis smirked. “For now. But I’ll be sure to bring it up again later.”

“I guess that’s the best deal I can get.”

“Yup.” answered Louis with a smile.

The rest of the day was spent lounging around their shared room, learning about one another. There were plenty of questions from Louis, and Harry answered the ones he could. In return, Louis told Harry a rather vague outline of his own life. From Louis’ story, Harry gathered three essential facts: Louis had a surplus of sisters, he had once been a part of some sort of band, and he had an immense dislike of carrots after what Louis referred to as his “carrot bingeing years”.

Time seemed to pass relatively quickly and by nighttime, the two strangers had learned a great deal of nonsense about each other. It was well into the night when Louis and Harry finally clamoured into their separate beds. They whispered goodnight to each other as they lights shut off, leaving the room submerged in darkness. And unlike many other nights, Harry’s last thoughts before finally nodding off were not consumed by the swirling masses that plagued his days, but rather by the mysterious boy with the lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So what did you guys think?
> 
> -Jilly xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third chapter is here! Can't wait to hear what you guys think!

It was the glow of the early afternoon leaking through the corners of his eyelids that finally roused Harry from his bed. He leisurely stretched his limbs and gave a drowsy yawn before brushing off the duvet, his skin prickling at the cold morning air. He rolled his shoulders idly. A quick glance at the other twin bed in the room told Harry that Louis must have already gone to eat breakfast in the institution’s dining hall.

Harry shrugged on a old jumper as well as a pair of worn jeans. He ran a hand through his curls before popping off to the loo to carry out his usual daily ritual.

He didn’t usually take much time in the mornings, because he was never too concerned about what the other patients thought of him. He didn’t really have any friends too judge him so it didn’t really matter anyway. He had liked his past roommates Zayn, Niall, and Liam enough, but he never really saw them around. Anne had been nice too, but she hadn’t been around either. Maybe they had already been treated and had been allowed to return home, but most likely it was just because they were all from different wards.

The institution’s dining hall was its usual quiet self. The majority of the patients sat silently at the breakfast tables, enjoying what the early birds had left of the breakfast buffet. A few people shuffled about with blue breakfast trays in their hands, shakily serving themselves helpings of eggs and hash browns. Nurses milled around through the patients, coaxing them to take the pills prescribed to them by their doctors.

Harry drifted over to the food and eagerly helped himself to some breakfast. Gripping his tray, he made his way over to an empty table that was meant to seat four people. A chess board and the accompanying game pieces had been laid out in the center of the table. It was common to see traditional games of chess or checkers being played in the dining hall. They were left lying around by the institution's staff to encourage some interaction between the patients, but mostly they were just left around until someone became bored enough to start up a game. The game that had been left unfinished by whomever had occupied the table before, was obviously close to its end. Harry could easily imagine the few moves that had to be made in order to capture the king and win the game.

“Harry?” Harry glanced up to find Louis standing across from him. “Mind if I join you?”

Harry motioned towards the seat across from him. “Sure.”

Louis plopped down in the chair, and he set his lighter on the table.

“What are you doing up so early?” asked Harry.

“Hmm?”

“You just don’t strike me as the early bird type.”

“I’m not really. I guess it was just a one time thing.” His smile was warm as it slid across his face. “Do you play chess?” Louis asked as he lifted a pond from the board with his petite hands and rolled it gently in his fingers.

Harry grumbled a reply around a mouthful of hashbrowns “Mmhm.”

“Oh, sorry. You’re eating.”

Harry swallowed. “No its fine. I’m almost done anyways. Have you had anything to eat yet?”

“Yup. I had breakfast earlier this morning.” Louis began clearing away the chessboard and then he started putting the pieces into their appropriate places for another game. “Do you wanna play?” He asked as the last piece was set in its space.

“Okay.” said Harry. Then, smirking mischievously, he reached out and turned the board around so that the white side faced him and the black side faced Louis. “I’ll move first.”

“You know that just because you chose white and you move first, it doesn’t mean you have an advantage.” Louis pointed out.

“Yes it does.” said Harry, still grinning, as he made his first move, setting the pawn on the board decisively.

“No it doesn’t.” Louis quickly moved one of his knight to counter Harry’s move.

Harry hesitated before choosing to move his bishop. "Of course it does. It's been proven. The player with the white pieces has a bit more than a fifty percent chance of winning because he moves first. In theory, if this" Harry motioned to the chessboard, "were to be a perfect game, meaning that we both make equally strategic plays, the player who moved first should be the winner. And since the player with the white pieces moves first, he is more likely to win." Harry paused, then after a bit of calculation, he made his decision and he made his next move.

"You really know your stuff don't you?" Asked Louis complacently, "Even so, I don't mind the immediate disadvantage." Louis' eyes glittered, "As Long as I get the chance to lie in wait and let my opponent fall into a false sense of security before finally besting them in the end."

"Sneaky," mumbled Harry and he stared into those blue eyes across the table, chess game forgotten, before regaining his composure and adding, "But not quite sneaky enough. You just practically told me your entire plan!"

"Maybe that's just me luring you into a false sense of security."

"I doubt it." Replied Harry, looking down at the board to reevaluate his strategy, just in case. Then for the next few minutes, both boys' foreheads were creased with their determination to win.

Halfway through the game, Louis gave a lethargic yawn. "Is this really all there is to do around this place? Play chess?"

"M'afraid so."

"There has got to be something else to do." Louis groaned.

"You're just afraid that you're going to lose."

"No. That's not it. I want to stop playing because this is just so bloody boring."

"We'll find something else to do as soon as—" Harry paused, looking up to find a nurse with peppered hair.

"Hello Harry," greeted the nurse.

"Oh, hi Melody." Said Harry with a small smile.

"It's-" she glanced at her watch, "1:00 p.m. You know what that means."

Harry’s head dropped into his hands and he groaned in protest, "No. Lets skip the pills today. 'Kay?"

"Sorry. Can't do that." She sighed and set a couple pills down in a white paper cup on the table. "You know, doctor's orders."

“Please?” Nurse Melody gave him a stern look and Harry relented. "I really don't know how much longer I can take that Stettler woman." Harry huffed. Turning to Louis he added, “That’s my psychiatrist.”

When Harry’s attention shifted back over to Melody, there was something off about the look she was giving him. Her smile was weighted, and the youthful glow in her old eyes had dimmed, causing her to finally look her age. It was an expression he couldn’t quite name. It seemed almost...sad?

“Aww, Melody, don’t look like that.” Harry’s lips stretched into a reassuring smile. “The meds aren’t that bad. A little bit of nausea never did anyone any real harm.”

“I guess not. Morgan Goldstein’s are much worse.” The nurse brightened a bit, but her cheeks didn’t quite regain their former glow. She still looked as if she had aged a decade.

“Who’s Morgan?” asked Harry.

“Hmm?” The nurse hummed as she gently shook pills out of a prescription bottle. “Oh, she’s one of the patients here. Bet you’ve seen her before. She usually sits by herself all quiet like.”

“Oh.”

“Poor girl. She’s had so much trauma in her life that she doesn’t even speak anymore.” The nurse looked around thoughtfully before she sucked in a cleansing breath of air. “So Harry, who’s your friend?”

“This is Louis.”

Harry watched in curiosity as Melody regarded Louis. Her gaze didn’t quite meet the boy’s as she forced a smile and said, “Hi Louis, its nice to meet you.”

Louis didn’t say anything in response, and Harry couldn’t have been more confused by the exchange. The way that the nurse treated Louis was strange, it was almost as if she didn’t want to look at him. Her eyes slid away from his face, so that she was looking at his shoulder instead of into Louis’ eyes.

Harry wondered if it was because Melody found Louis intimidating. After all, Harry could see where one might get that impression about Louis. There was something about they way he held that lighter. Louis grasped it like a lifeline, like it was a extension of his own being. Louis needed fire like an stoner needs spliff. It was his dependence on such a corrosive material that made him seem all the more destructive. But In the end, Louis was just a boy hiding behind a feeble flame.

Melody didn’t encourage any more conversation between herself and Louis. Her gaze remained glued to Louis’ shoulder, like she was forcing herself to stay focused on that single point. Her smile remained stapled to her face in a rather uncomfortable looking position and Harry contemplated how long it would be before her mask faltered.

 _Not long at all_ , mused Harry as he watched her facade crack before it shattered entirely, leaving the women staring morosely at Louis. She didn’t waste one second in murmuring a quick goodbye before she was hurrying off to tend to a different patient.

“What was that all about?” demanded Harry.

“I don’t think she likes me.” mused Louis.

“Do you guys know each other?”

“Of course we do.” said Louis, eyes glittering cheekily. “You just introduced us.”

“Ugh.” said Harry, twirling a frustrated hand in his curls. “You know that I was talking about before then.”

Louis raised his eyebrows teasingly but replied all the same. “Then no. We just met.”

Harry pondered the information for a little while but nothing came of it. There was no reason that Melody shouldn’t like Louis if they had just met. Louis hadn’t even had the chance to open his mouth and reveal what a prat he was. Maybe Melody was just as certifiable as her patients.

“How about we go find something interesting to do?” suggested Louis, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

“What about our chess game?”

“Forget about that. We can always come back to it later.”

Harry glanced at the chessboard longingly and Louis sighed, “Don’t worry Harry. It will be here tomorrow and I can beat you then.” Louis smirked, “I don’t honestly think anyone is going to touch it.”

“Fine.”

“So, how about you meet me in the courtyard between Ward C and Ward D in a half-hour?” suggested Louis. “I’ve got a plan.”

“Hm? Oh, I can’t. I have to go meet with Dr. Stettler.”

“Ok. How ‘bout after?”

“Sure.”

Louis swiped his lighter of the table and waggled his fingers in goodbye. Then he sashayed out of the dining hall, hips swaying as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the third chapter of LMBWY! What did you guys think? -Jilly


End file.
